


Mid-Life Crisis (Knowing III)

by Lunaris (lunaris1013)



Series: Knowing [3]
Category: Pundit RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-25
Updated: 2005-05-25
Packaged: 2017-10-02 16:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunaris1013/pseuds/Lunaris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The further adventures of two middle-aged (supposedly) straight men who know better, yet have no power to keep their hands off one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mid-Life Crisis (Knowing III)

**Author's Note:**

> Not possible without leogryffin. She not only betas, but cracks the whip and brings the sofa in the door sideways. ::smooches Leo:: Additional beta by trixiesfic the Wise, who has every right to point and laugh at my RPS.

The thing about stepping outside of your boundaries is that it forces you to re-evaluate who you are. Who you thought you were. Who you will be. On any given night, plenty of people on the island of Manhattan made those evaluations. Tonight was no different from the rest.

One such man was laying in bed next to his wife, wondering just how his life had gotten so complicated so fast. One day he was a perfectly happy straight guy and the next he was in bed with another man. Okay, it wasn't that cut and dried; the feelings had been building up in him for a while. It was just supposed to be a little dalliance, a brief foray into another world to get that misplaced pang of lust out of his system. But instead it had opened up a Pandora's box of feelings and ideas that didn't reconcile with his life.

His very good life.

Not far away, another man was roaming his apartment in his boxers. He leaned against the open door of his refrigerator and stared at the contents before choosing a bottle of water to keep him company while he mused on what he'd done. Just like he'd claimed, he really was okay with the part where he'd had sex with another man. Sex was sex, he'd decided, no matter what body parts were involved. But he'd long ago drawn the line at becoming involved with a married person. Married women was actually what he'd meant at the time, but what was the difference? He really did think it would be a one-night romp, over and done; he hadn't counted on wanting more.

*****

His cell phone rang while Keith was on his way out of the city. "Olbermann," he answered.

"Hey," Jon answered back.

"Jon, I'm about to hit the tunnel. Talk fast or call back."

"You remember that little bar we were in the other night?"

"Yeah. I remember."

"Meet me there tonight when you get back to the city. I need to…"

Damn Lincoln Tunnel.

*****

Eleven o'clock on a Thursday night, and Jon was back in the bar where his life started to get much more confusing. It was a dark little place with just a couple of booths in the back and a few tables up front, the kind where the tourists didn't go. Small, high windows littered with neon beer signs made it look like any of a hundred such places, the tiny, anonymous taverns that attracted people who drank to forget. He occupied one of the booths, nursing a beer, waiting on the man who caused the confusion in the first place.

Keith walked in a short time later. He'd taken the time to change out of the suit, appearing in jeans and a retro-looking Yankees jacket. He stopped at the bar to order, then came over and slid into the booth. He looked like a little boy who had been sent to the principal's office, like he wanted very badly to be someplace else. "Hey Jon. What's up?"

Jon looked across the table and wasn't encouraged by what he saw. Oh god, why was he here? "I've, uh, been doing a lot of thinking since the other night Keith, and I, uh...

"...made a mistake. Yeah." Keith gazed into his glass to keep from meeting Jon's eyes.

"No."

"Look, I'm sorry. It wasn't right to coerce you..." Keith looked up to see Jon smiling and obviously amused. "What?"

"_No_."

"No?"

"No I didn't make a mistake. Did you think I called you here so I could bitch you out for ruining my life?" Jon lowered his voice, "I thought it was pretty clear that I had a good time."

That got Keith to smile. "You did. I did. It was a lot of fun. You know, it took me three days to live down the flowers. And the card was a nice touch. Though if that ever gets back to Williams..."

"I thought you'd like that. Anyway," Jon's demeanor took a turn for the anxious, "what I wanted to ask you, was, um, if we could..." He shrugged and looked down at his bottle, absently scraping at the label.

Keith was pretty sure what Jon was getting at though he wasn't at all sure how he felt about it. On the one hand, an affair with a man, a _married_ man at that, ensured that his entire life would become a series of clandestine meetings and veiled references. On the other hand, there was the very strong allure of sexual exploration. No matter what decision he was about to make, there were sure to be regrets. He leveled his gaze at Jon. He wanted to hear him ask. "If we could what?"

"You know," Jon refused to look up, "maybe, uh, doitagain."

That last bit was so rushed and so low that Keith wasn't sure if he'd heard correctly, even though he was positive of the intent. "Did you just ask me..."

"Yes! Goddammit!" Jon's annoyance disappeared when he looked up to see Keith looking at him with a very self-satisfied grin. "You bastard."

Keith shrugged. "Hey, a girl likes to be asked."

"Do you know how hard that was to ask?"

"Do you know how hard that is for me to answer?" The levity was gone, and Jon realized that he hadn't actually gotten an answer. "I don't know that I can do it one more time. Or two more times. Or...Jon."

"I'm not asking you for a fucking wedding ring, Keith. I'm saying that it was what..." Jon looked down, before looking Keith straight in the eye. "What we know we needed. Did it really have to be just the once? You can't pretend that you...well, maybe you can."

Keith looked at Jon, uncharacteristically unable to speak.

"Is that a no?"

Keith should have bitten his mouth shut, but it spilled out. "No. I...yes?"

"That was nice and noncommittal."

Keith sighed and closed his eyes. "Yes. I want to continue." He opened them again and met Jon's gaze. "A part of me that I didn't know existed has been let loose and it's not about to be put back in the closet, so to speak. But Jon, have you considered the possible consequences to your career if this comes out? You're one of the hottest properties in pop culture at the moment; this could prove to be a disaster. For both of us."

Jon nodded. "I have thought about that. It's all I've thought about for days. But like you said, it's out there and doesn't want to be put back." He paused to play with the beer label again. "The way I see it, we can take this chance to figure out these urges with each other, in a way that's relatively safe for us or we can do nothing. And later on one or both of us will take a chance on something riskier."

Keith had to admit he hadn't thought of that particular angle, and whether or not it was a valid argument, it was certainly what he needed to hear to make himself feel a little better about what he was getting into. Time to let the adventure begin. "I've got some days off coming to me; what are you doing on Friday?"

Jon smiled. "I'll be in Chicago. I've got two shows Friday night, and I'm taping Oprah in the morning."

"You're doing Oprah?" Keith chuckled.

"Hey, don't knock it!"

Keith choked back a laugh. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"I'm flying out Thursday night. Meet me there."

"You're serious."

"Yes, I'm serious. The theatre isn't too far from the airport so I'm staying out there. I'll have a whole afternoon to kill, not to mention Thursday night and I hate sitting alone in hotel rooms."

"What do you usually do when you do road dates?"

Jon shrugged. "I pack the Playstation."

*****

The flight was late. The weather was miserable. And O'Hare Airport was, as always, impossible. But as if to make up for all of that, the cab ride to the Hyatt was mercifully brief. Keith stopped at the front desk, asked for Mr. Liebowiz's room, and headed up to the eighth floor. It was nearly 2am by the time he knocked on the door. When it opened, he was greeted by the sight of a slightly disheveled Jon -- barefoot, shirtless, and with his jeans unfastened.

Keith looked him up and down, eyes settling on the plaid boxers peeking out from between the two halves of the zipper and the obvious erection underneath. "So does this mean you're happy to see me?"

Jon looked up at Keith with a bit of a leer. "I was, uh, just getting a little head start," he answered as his left hand stroked the bulge in his pants.

"Well don't let me interrupt what you were doing," Keith said, moving into the room and shutting the door. He dropped his bag and tossed his jacket on a chair. "As a matter of fact," off came the right shoe, "I'll wait," and then the left, "and watch," he backed Jon against the bed, "until you're finished."

All performers have a bit of exhibitionist inside, and Jon was no exception. He'd just never done this kind of performance for this kind of audience before. There was a small storm of panic in his brain, and he considered his natural inclination to hide behind humor when he was nervous. But it was very obvious from the intensity in his eyes that Keith was expecting jerking off and not jokes. _This is supposed to be all about new experiences_, Jon thought to himself, _get to it and don't chicken out_.

Jon slid his jeans down over his hips and sat on the edge of the bed. Keith gave him a little push to the chest, forcing him onto his back, then reached down to pull the jeans the rest of the way off. Their eyes met, gaze locked, and Jon lifted himself off the bed enough to let his boxers be removed. Keith backed himself into the chair at the end of the bed, never taking his eyes off of Jon.

On his king-sized stage, Jon got to his knees and sat back on his heels. After a few long strokes he was completely hard again. Eyes on his audience, he began the show. He started slowly, building a rhythm that moved into his body until he was no longer stroking his cock, but fucking his hand. Faster, slower, changing grip, doing whatever he could to keep from coming too soon. Head back and eyes closed, he heard a moan of pleasure that wasn't his. He opened his eyes and refocused on Keith, who by now had is own hand in his pants.

Jon let go of his control and let himself come. Eyes shut tight and body tensed, he shot onto his belly and chest. He reached down for his discarded t-shirt to wipe himself off only to have Keith snatch it away from him to do the job himself.

"So what do you do for an encore?"

"You want an encore?" Jon looked at Keith with an evil grin, "I'll give you an encore. Strip."

Keith smiled and put his glasses on the night table before pulling the sweater over his head. He flung it dramatically to the other side of the room where it draped over the television armoire. Then he stood and pushed both pants and underwear down in one motion, kicking them onto the nearby desk chair. "And now?"

"Now you lay down."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm about to get a taste of my own medicine?"

As soon as Keith was on his back, Jon straddled him and bent to claim his mouth. Kissing, Jon had decided, was a good place to start. It was familiar, the slide of tongues, the occasional click of teeth. The parts that weren't familiar yet, the strength of the arms pulling him close and the slight case of beard burn, were things he'd at least experienced once before. Beyond this would lie unexplored territory.

Deep urgent kisses became nips along Keith's jaw, trailing down his neck, across the shoulder. Things were so rushed and awkward the first time they were together Jon was determined to take his time and process what he was thinking, feeling and most of all, touching.

Jon changed his position and trailed his tongue down Keith's chest. Hard and flat and oh, so very much not like a woman's. For one thing, it wasn't as easy to get hold of a nipple this way. He worked the left one with his fingers, gently at first, then rougher, and was rewarded with inarticulate noises. Keith's breathing was a little harder, a little faster now. Jon's teeth found the other nipple and bit down just enough to elicit a moan. Some more teasing with tongue and teeth on that highly sensitive button of flesh brought forth a shudder.

"If your plan is to drive me slowly and methodically insane, it's working."

Jon paused and glanced up through his lashes. "Is it? Huh." He shifted his position again and began to lick and kiss his way down Keith's belly before pausing again. "I wasn't really going for the insanity thing." Jon lifted his head, "If you want me to stop..."

"Yes! I mean, no! I..."

Jon smiled. "So tell me Keith, what exactly do you want?"

"You want me to ask for it?"

Jon moved again, making Keith spread his thighs so he'd fit between. That familiar buzz of panic hit again when he realized what he was about to do. "I want you to beg, but I'll settle for 'please.'"

"Fucker."

"Not yet." Jon flicked his tongue across the head of Keith's cock, tasting his pre-come and pushing him one step closer to the edge.

"Oh god! Please!"

"Please what?" This time he ran his tongue along the underside.

Keith was just about undone at this point. "Stewart, you cocksucker!"

"Not," lick, "in the form of a request," lick, "but it'll do." Jon grabbed hold and went down, panic and inexperience warring in his mind with curiosity and enthusiasm. And once he got his gag reflex under control, the enthusiasm took over. One hand at the base, the other fondling balls and damn, if the angle wasn't all backwards but it made Keith arch off the bed anyway. Sucking and stroking and Jon had a rhythm going and it was good. Damn good. At least it was good until he heard Keith try to speak. Which could only mean one thing, but he didn't want to let go. There went another line Jon thought he'd never cross.

As Keith lay boneless across the bed, Jon shoved him over, pulled down the covers, climbed in next to him, and switched off the light. Keith pulled him close and nuzzled his ear.

"So, you always like to watch?" Jon ventured.

"Not usually. But you gave me the perfect excuse. You always..?"

"…such a slut? Not so much," Jon snuggled a little closer. "You pretty much bring it out of me."

*****

When Jon arrived back at the hotel after the taping, the room was empty. This suited him fine. He closed the drapes on the wan afternoon sunlight then peeled off the jacket, tie and shirt. He was still sitting in the dark when Keith came back.

"What are you doing sitting in the dark?"

"Wondering what the fuck I'm doing here."

"Here as in Chicago? Or are we speaking existentially?"

"I just spent the morning telling Middle America how crazy I am about my wife and kid. And then," Jon got up and started to pace, "and _then_ I come back here where I'm shacking up with my…" Jon gestured ineffectually, "With you!"

Keith winced at the sting in his words. This is one of the things he'd feared would happen, though he didn't expect it quite so soon. "Look Jon, if you don't want me here I'll go," he said quietly.

"No! I don't want you to leave! I just…" Jon sat back down, "Let's just say the irony isn't lost on me."

"There's a difference between intellectualizing what this means to your life and having the reality slap you in the face, is that it?"

Jon nodded.

"And this, my friend, is why it's called a mid-life crisis." Keith sat down on the other end of the sofa.

"Is that what this is?"

"If you knew a forty-something guy who was having an affair, what would you call it?"

"Good point." Jon sighed. "Why didn't we just buy Maseratis or something?"

"I don't know about you, but I don't drive."

"I'm not leaving Tracey for you," Jon deadpanned. "Just so you know."

Keith laughed. "We'd get the cover of The National Enquirerer."

"And think of the ratings."

"I could finally beat O'Riley in the overnights."

The laughter died down, and both men sat in companionable silence, heads back, staring at the ceiling. Keith turned to look at Jon, "So what do you have to do before the show tonight?"

"Not a whole lot. Plenty of time to kill before I have to be anywhere. What do you have in mind?"

"Oh, I don't know. There's probably a spring training game…"

The next thing he knew, Keith found himself being straddled rather enthusiastically. Any trace of the internal conflict was gone from Jon's face, replaced by that mischievous leer that was fast becoming familiar. Knees in the sofa cushions, hands in Keith's hair, Jon began rocking his hips.

"Or a lap dance is also an option," Keith said as he grabbed the other man's ass and started matching his rhythm.

Jon pulled Keith closer and kissed him hard. "Now tell me what you really want to do this afternoon."

Keith had two options; he could continue dry humping until they both came in their pants, or he could answer truthfully. He knew what he wanted, knew the only way it would happen was for him to come out and say it. Not because of any mind games like last night, but because Jon wouldn't ask to go there. "I want…" Keith gave Jon one more kiss then stopped the grinding of their hips and looked over the tops of his glasses. "I want you to fuck me."

Jon pulled back and looked at him. "Are you sure? You wanna just skip the rest of the beginner's course and move on to the intermediate maneuvers?"

"I skipped first grade. I'm good with accelerated learning." Keith smiled at Jon, hoping he looked more confident than he felt.

"I might be wrong, but I think there's a difference between 'See Dick run' and having a dick up your ass."

"You obviously never discovered the homoerotic subtext in the elementary school readers of the early sixties."

That got a laugh out of Jon. "Did you bring…"

"Yep."

Jon stood, then grabbed Keith's hand and pulled him up from the sofa. Keith went over to his bag to retrieve the lube. He opened it, moving quickly to cover up the book inside.

"What's that?"

"What? Nothing." Keith flipped the flap of his carry-on closed.

Jon was having none of it. "No, I saw it dammit!"

"You saw nothing."

"Oh yes I did!" Jon applied a wicked hip check, shoving Keith out of the way and opened the suitcase to reveal the book in question, The Ins and Outs of Gay Sex. "Ah HAH!"

Keith buried his face in his hand. "I've been doing some research."

"Now why wouldn't you want me to see this?" Jon pulled the book out and used it to slap Keith's behind before starting to leaf through the pages.

"Turn to page 237."

Jon looked at the picture. He rotated the book left, then right. "How can..?"

"That's what we're saving for advanced studies." Keith pulled the book from his hands and tossed it aside. "Right now, let's concentrate on the intermediate stuff." He leaned down for a kiss, wrapping an arm around Jon's waist while the other hand was busy with his pants. Reaching past the worsted wool, beyond the cotton boxers, fondling and stroking until he was absolutely languid. Keith pulled back and busied himself with taking off his own clothes while Jon came to his senses long enough to step out of the pants pooled around his feet.

Jon pushed Keith, who sat down hard on the bed. "That's better. I'm getting neck spasms from looking up at you all the time."

Keith pulled Jon onto his lap so that they were nose to nose. "How's this?"

"Almost." He took Keith's glasses and set them on the nightstand. "Now," kiss, "shouldn't you," kiss, "be on your back?"

"Missionary, huh?" Kiss. "Now who's subjecting whom," kiss, "to feminine stereotypes?"

"Not at all," kiss, "I just want," kiss, "to watch the show."

Keith laid back and got into position. It was then that he realized that niggling in the back of his brain for what it was - apprehension. What had he just told Jon? That there's a difference between intellectualizing something and having it slap you in the face? Right. If it's just sex then why in the hell does he feel so vulnerable? Because he can't hide behind his intellect or his wit. Because it's not just his body laid bare, but his emotions. How had Jon gotten under his skin so _fast_?

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Anal sex? Yeah. Except for this part where my partner is the same gender. And I was pitching instead of catching."

Jon stifled a laugh.

"What?"

"Next time they make one of those baseball cards of you it can say, 'switch-hitting catcher.'"

"And you call yourself a comedian." Keith tried to feign outrage at his tormentor, but settled for pummeling him with a pillow. Jon grabbed it away and applied an affectionate swat to the other man's behind. Keith dutifully lifted his hips and let the pillow be placed underneath and tossed Jon the bottle.

After warming the lube in his hands, Jon got himself slicked up, then started working on Keith. "You've gotta relax," Jon warned, "or..."

"Yeah." Keith closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he let it out, he felt the fingers go in. Massaging and wiggling and damn, that felt pretty good. They were gone then, as suddenly as they'd appeared. He opened his eyes just enough to see Jon positioning himself and that first push and oh god it took everything he had not to clench up. Another little push and there it was, that tipping point where his brain went from, _ohmygodI'mgettingfucked_ to _ohgodfuckme_. The thrusting began, slowly and carefully and his hands gripped the sheets and he started rocking his hips trying to get more. Amid the heavy breathing he managed to verbalize, "Harder."

"Are you sure..."

In answer, Keith wrapped his legs around Jon's back and pulled and the angle changed and it went deep and goddamn there were _stars_. A little shift in position and his cock was between their bellies getting a good stroke with each thrust and it was okay to clench now and god, it felt even better. That one last hard, balls-deep push before Jon came sent Keith over the edge himself.

Jon slipped out and settled in next to Keith. "Was that..?"

"That was. In fact, I'm very sure the Earth tilted on it's axis there at the end."

"You looked pretty blissed-out at that point."

Keith smiled. Bliss was the exact word to describe it. Just as he was about to kiss Jon in reply, his cell phone went off. He rolled over and picked it up from the night table, checking the caller ID. MSNBC. He closed his eyes and sighed before answering. "Olbermann. Yeah. No. I'll be there. I'll be on the next available flight. Right. I'll let you know when I land." He broke the connection and tossed the phone back onto the table. "The Pope isn't expected to last the night. I'll have to cover it on-air tomorrow."

"And you have to leave this afternoon."

"Not that I wouldn't rather curl up with you for a while," he said as he resumed that kiss so rudely interrupted by the phone call. "Or get to see your show tonight. Or, no offense here, really anything so I wouldn't have to sit on a plane for three hours considering the condition I'm currently in."

Jon winced. "Ow. But you'll have something to remember me by."

"Under the circumstances, I think I'd rather try to explain another dozen roses."

*****

Somewhere in the skies between Chicago and New York, there was a man sitting in first class. Squirming in first class, actually. Not that he really noticed his physical discomfort too much; he was preoccupied with his emotional landscape at the moment. Hoping that what he was feeling was just infatuation because anything else would end up being a disaster. He was in deep and it was too late to back out.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, there really is a book called The Ins and Outs of Gay Sex . No, I have no idea what's really on page 237. Also? I was at Jon's first show in Chicago the night before JPII died.
> 
> _Disclaimer: Any similarity between the fictional version of the persons portrayed here and the actual persons is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said persons on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said persons)._
> 
> _Any mention of 'The Daily Show', 'ESPN', 'ESPN2', 'MSNBC', 'Countdown with Keith Olbermann', 'Fox News' or any associated entites, or any copyrighted material pertaining therein is reasonably protected by the Fair Use Rule of the United States Copyright Act of 1976, and is not intended to infringe upon any copyrighted material._


End file.
